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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25073581">they don’t stand a chance</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/littlecreature/pseuds/littlecreature'>littlecreature</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes - Fandom</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, F/M, Family, Fluff, Kinda, Pre-Canon, definitely, just a further little look into the Snow family dynamics, mentions of death at the end, snow and livia being decidedly not good parents but having another one anyway</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 02:54:56</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,070</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25073581</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/littlecreature/pseuds/littlecreature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>snow lands on top, then it melts.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Livia Cardew/Coriolanus Snow</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>22</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>they don’t stand a chance</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>just a little follow on from 𝑝𝑒𝑜𝑝𝑙𝑒 𝑎𝑟𝑒 𝑓𝑜𝑜𝑙𝑠 but it’s not necessary for you to read that to read this — but characters will probably make more sense if you do!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Aellius had been the worst pregnancy. Her body wasn’t used to the strain pregnancy put it under. This did not measure up the newspaper pages of how motherhood was a woman’s best way to help rebuild the nation, or the pretty way it was depicted by her mother, trying to keep on the right track. </p><p>She hated it. She hated the way she couldn’t sit properly, no matter if she was on one of the many chairs the mansion offered, or if she was in her bed. She never vocalised the hate, she just allows it to bubble up inside of her. The end result wasn’t worth it. She didn’t remember her siblings being so loud, or disgusting when they were born. She doesn’t remember her mother being so exhausted and overwhelmed. </p><p>Her husband kisses her after their son is born — brushes her hair behind her ear and presses a kiss to her temple, “well done,” he whispers and then he turns to the bassinet, and leaves her to lie in her sweat as he picks up the babe, gently cradling the boy, who greets his father with a yawn.  He asks her if she wants to hold him and she declines. But Aellius mewls for a feed, so she ends up with him anyway and he latches too tight and she wonders if a wet nurse would be an option for her. </p><p>So Aellius gets assigned a nanny, and Livia deals with the nice side of being a mother - she plays with Aellius, reads to him ( mostly for photoshoots, but that wasn’t the point - she knew the words to itsy bitsy avox and that should count for something ), but as soon as he showed any sign of being a human baby, back he goes to his nanny. He’s a smart boy, and as he grows he learns Livia isn’t the one to turn to when he gets a scraped knee or a headache — and he’d be quick to teach his siblings that too. </p><p>Leos wasn’t much easier — her body understood now, and carried the baby easier but it didn’t horrify her any less, and she used that to her advantage, dipping out of public events without her husband and son, claiming any manner of aches and pains — just so she can sulk and contemplate her frustrations. </p><p>He was a fragile baby, and really — he didn’t get over that until he was ten. She had a warmer relationship with him, feeding him medicine ( fingers darting past antidotes and painkillers in the cabinet ) and wiping sweat off of his forehead, letting his feverish body rest against hers on the bathroom floor, pressing a cool palm to his sticky brow. </p><p>But then he got better, and the nanny was more than happy to look after him because that was enough for Livia — Leos, unlike his brother, had developed too much of a petted lip and she had sneered at her husband over a glass of wine. </p><p>“𝑴𝒚 𝒔𝒐𝒏,“ 𝑠ℎ𝑒 𝑠𝑙𝑖𝑑𝑒𝑠 𝑖𝑛𝑡𝑜 ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑙𝑎𝑝, 𝑜𝑛𝑒 𝑎𝑟𝑚 𝑠𝑙𝑢𝑛𝑔 𝑎𝑟𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑑 ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑛𝑒𝑐𝑘 — 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑜𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟 ℎ𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑔𝑟𝑖𝑝𝑝𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑎 𝑙𝑎𝑟𝑔𝑒 𝑔𝑙𝑎𝑠𝑠 𝑜𝑓 𝑤𝑖𝑛𝑒. 𝐻𝑒𝑟 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑟𝑑 𝑜𝑟 𝑓𝑜𝑢𝑟𝑡ℎ 𝑜𝑓 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑛𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡. 𝐻𝑖𝑠 ℎ𝑎𝑛𝑑𝑠 𝑔𝑟𝑖𝑝 ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝑤𝑎𝑖𝑠𝑡, 𝑠ℎ𝑒’𝑙𝑙 𝑓𝑎𝑙𝑙 𝑠𝑡𝑟𝑎𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡 𝑜𝑢𝑡 𝑜𝑓 ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑙𝑎𝑝 𝑖𝑓 ℎ𝑒 𝑑𝑜𝑒𝑠𝑛’𝑡.<br/>
“𝑶𝒖𝒓 𝒔𝒐𝒏“ ℎ𝑒 𝑐𝑜𝑟𝑟𝑒𝑐𝑡𝑠 𝑑𝑟𝑦𝑙𝑦 - 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑤𝑖𝑛𝑒 𝑑𝑜𝑒𝑠𝑛’𝑡 𝑎𝑓𝑓𝑒𝑐𝑡 ℎ𝑖𝑚 𝑙𝑖𝑘𝑒 𝑖𝑡 𝑑𝑜𝑒𝑠 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ ℎ𝑒𝑟. 𝑇ℎ𝑒𝑦’𝑟𝑒 𝑎𝑝𝑝𝑟𝑜𝑎𝑐ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑖𝑟 𝑓𝑜𝑟𝑡𝑖𝑒𝑠, 𝑦𝑒𝑡 𝑠ℎ𝑒 𝑏𝑎𝑟𝑒𝑙𝑦 𝑙𝑜𝑜𝑘𝑠 𝑎 𝑑𝑎𝑦 𝑜𝑣𝑒𝑟 𝑡𝑤𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑦 𝑓𝑖𝑣𝑒 ( 𝑤ℎ𝑎𝑡𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑟 𝑠𝑢𝑟𝑔𝑒𝑟𝑦 𝑖𝑡 𝑖𝑠 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑠ℎ𝑒 𝑢𝑛𝑑𝑒𝑟𝑡𝑎𝑘𝑒𝑠, ℎ𝑒 𝑎𝑝𝑝𝑟𝑒𝑐𝑖𝑎𝑡𝑒𝑠 𝑖𝑡 ). “𝑴𝒎, 𝒚𝒆𝒔, 𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒔𝒐𝒏 .. 𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒔𝒐𝒏 𝒊𝒔 𝒔𝒐𝒇𝒕.“ 𝑆ℎ𝑒 𝑠𝑛𝑒𝑒𝑟𝑠, 𝑓𝑖𝑛𝑖𝑠ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑜𝑓𝑓 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑔𝑙𝑎𝑠𝑠, 𝑎𝑛𝑑 ℎ𝑒 𝑡𝑎𝑘𝑒𝑠 𝑖𝑡 𝑜𝑓𝑓 𝑜𝑓 ℎ𝑒𝑟, 𝑠𝑒𝑡𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑖𝑡 𝑜𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑐𝑙𝑜𝑠𝑒𝑠𝑡 𝑓𝑙𝑎𝑡 𝑠𝑢𝑟𝑓𝑎𝑐𝑒.<br/>
“𝑾𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒖𝒔𝒆 𝒅𝒐 𝒘𝒆 𝒉𝒂𝒗𝒆 𝒐𝒇 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕?“ 𝑆ℎ𝑒 𝑞𝑢𝑒𝑠𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛𝑠, 𝑠𝑡𝑟𝑜𝑘𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑎 𝑓𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑒𝑟 𝑎𝑐𝑟𝑜𝑠𝑠 ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑐ℎ𝑒𝑒𝑘, 𝑙𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑒𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑎𝑡 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑐𝑜𝑟𝑛𝑒𝑟 𝑜𝑓 ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑙𝑖𝑝. 𝐻𝑒 𝑏𝑖𝑡𝑒𝑠, 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑠ℎ𝑒’𝑠 𝑠𝑡𝑖𝑙𝑙 𝑞𝑢𝑖𝑐𝑘 𝑒𝑛𝑜𝑢𝑔ℎ 𝑡𝑜 𝑔𝑒𝑡 𝑜𝑢𝑡 𝑜𝑓 𝑑𝑎𝑛𝑔𝑒𝑟’𝑠 𝑟𝑜𝑎𝑑. 𝐻𝑖𝑠 ℎ𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑡𝑟𝑎𝑣𝑒𝑙𝑠 𝑎𝑐𝑟𝑜𝑠𝑠 ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑔ℎ, 𝑝𝑢𝑙𝑙𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑏𝑢𝑛𝑐ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑢𝑝 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑚𝑎𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑖𝑎𝑙 𝑜𝑓 ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝑑𝑟𝑒𝑠𝑠, 𝑑𝑒𝑠𝑝𝑖𝑡𝑒 ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝑙𝑎𝑧𝑦 𝑎𝑡𝑡𝑒𝑚𝑝𝑡𝑠 𝑡𝑜 𝑠𝑤𝑎𝑡 ℎ𝑖𝑠 ℎ𝑎𝑛𝑑𝑠 𝑎𝑤𝑎𝑦. </p><p>      “𝑺𝒐 𝒘𝒆 𝒕𝒓𝒚 𝒂𝒈𝒂𝒊𝒏.“ </p><p>Her third pregnancy? 𝐴 𝑏𝑟𝑒𝑒𝑧𝑒. She barely gained any weight, and she didn’t feel the need to hide away this time. She does a lot more interviews ( not that she enjoys them — but Caesar is an old friend by this point ) and Aellius and Leos finally get a taste of what having a mother is like. Caelia, when she makes her entrance, is a little doll. Barely cries; the nanny praises her as a dream, jesting that both Aellius and Leos had both been tiny little terrors. </p><p>Her daughter inherits her love of fashion, stumbling her way into her mother’s closest as soon as she can, but she’s observant, much like her husband. Bubbly when in company, but Livia notices how her fork lingers on its way to her mouth, listening intently when her husband encourages Aellius to discuss politics, whilst Leos keeps his mouth shut. Caelia voices her opinion during an evening spent watching a recap of the day that had passed in the arena, settled in her father’s lap ( comfy in her nightgown, rose tinted lips forming a small ‘o’ as she watches a tribute gets his head bashed against a rocky ledge in the arena ), Coriolanus had ruffled her silken hair and called her precocious, seemingly enjoying her commentary on how silly the careers were being this year, in not guarding their cornucopia, it leaves it 𝑣𝑢𝑙-𝑛𝑒𝑟-𝑎𝑏𝑙𝑒, she had sounded out, brightening at the attention it had garnered. </p><p>Precocity would be the death of her, Livia was sure, swirling her posca in its glass. Leos is passively watching, a book in his lap, Aellius sits furthest from his family, obsessively messaging his friends — 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑦’𝑟𝑒 𝑏𝑒𝑡𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑔 &amp;&amp; ℎ𝑒 ℎ𝑎𝑠 𝑎 𝑐𝑟𝑢𝑠ℎ 𝑜𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑑𝑖𝑠𝑡𝑟𝑐𝑡 𝑜𝑛𝑒 𝑔𝑖𝑟𝑙. 𝐻𝑒 𝑎𝑙𝑤𝑎𝑦𝑠 𝑑𝑜𝑒𝑠. 𝑌𝑒𝑡 ℎ𝑒’𝑠 𝑛𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑟 𝑞𝑢𝑖𝑡𝑒 𝑔𝑜𝑡𝑡𝑒𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑏𝑎𝑙𝑙𝑠 𝑡𝑜 𝑠𝑝𝑒𝑎𝑘 𝑡𝑜 𝑎 𝑣𝑖𝑐𝑡𝑜𝑟. 𝑂𝑟 𝑣𝑖𝑠𝑖𝑡 𝑎 𝑚𝑜𝑟𝑔𝑢𝑒. </p><p>Death was impartial, and she doesn’t flinch when the canons boom. She won’t flinch when she passes and neither will her husband, but Caelia will squirm, coughing and clutching for her mother — barely even twelve years old. Leos relishes it ( 𝑏𝑒𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑠𝑒𝑛𝑡 𝑡𝑜 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑝𝑒𝑎𝑐𝑒𝑘𝑒𝑒𝑝𝑒𝑟 𝑎𝑐𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑚𝑦 𝑤𝑎𝑠 𝑛𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑟 𝑎 𝑓𝑎𝑖𝑟 𝑝𝑢𝑛𝑖𝑠ℎ𝑚𝑒𝑛𝑡 𝑓𝑜𝑟 ℎ𝑖𝑚 ) and Aellius refuses to fall without a fight, because he thinks he’s still better, that they’re still better, because he 𝑏𝑒𝑙𝑖𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑠 the lies and stories he had been fed as lullabies and bedtime stories. </p><p>It would be too painful to accept any other reality.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>thanks for reading!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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